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Last Sunday, a couple in our church celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary. I LOVE that there are several couples in our church that have been married for over 50 years. I think that is amazing. Gregg and I were older when we got married, so neither one of us really expect to make it to 65 years, but we’ll take 50 with gladness and joy.

Faith is the foundation of everything we believe. If we don’t have faith, how can we claim a relationship with God? For everything else we have discussed in this book, faith, to me, is the most important.

Our pastor preached a sermon one time on marriage and said, “I can go to work and get beat up by work colleagues all day long. I can get cut off in traffic, I can get talked over in meetings, I can get disrespected by my associates. And I can come come to my wife who is my biggest cheerleader and who tells me I’m wonderful and can do it, and nothing else will matter. The rest of the world just fades away into unimportant.”

Several months ago, Gregg was faced with a tough decision. He had fulfilled two contracts in Afghanistan, had been gone for eighteen months, and needed to decide if he was going to stay there or come home. He fasted and prayed and sought what the right decision would be. Then he called me.

There’s a man in our church to gave his testimony Sunday morning. His story is a story of deliverance that most of us have no ability to understand. He was raised in church, knew about Jesus Christ, and turned to God only when he needed help getting out of the worst trouble. A failed marriage with children, drug addiction, drug dealing to support addiction, and finally prison.

I used to think the term “repentance” was the entire package of what a Christian was to do. Likely because of pop culture political cartoons or caricatures with some sign or caption in them about “repent and be saved!” So, in my mind, repentance meant confession of sins and turning away from sins while accepting Jesus Christ into your life and heart all at the same time.

I worked in the construction industry for twelve years. For twelve years, I was surrounded, day in and day out, with men working in a man’s environment. The language that was peppered throughout my place of employment on a daily basis would make a sailor blush. It was such a part of my daily life that I didn’t even hear it. There was one man with whom I worked who could use a curse word five times in a sentence: as the noun, adjective, adverb, pronoun, and verb. It was nearly comical.

I was talking to a retired homicide detective last week. He said that every dead child, every drug induced murder, every senseless death born of greed and anger and malice destroyed him inside. But, as a homicide detective, he couldn’t let those emotions out. Instead of going into some dead child’s bedroom and crying in a corner, he had to buck up and do his job. To compensate, he would go home and drink. His wife didn’t understand what he was struggling with, because he couldn’t open up the floodgate of emotions that would come as a result of acknowledging them, and in the end it nearly destroyed their marriage.

Two months into my first marriage, my husband quit his job. I had to withdraw plans to start school three weeks later, and we had to pack up and move back to his hometown. That decision he made started a cycle of unemployment/employment that made our marriage very stressful and very hard. Between the financial problems we faced and the addiction problems he faced during our over nine years of marriage, his adulterous affair and our divorce was a relief for me. I was very much over marriage, had no desire to even date, and never intended to be in a relationship with a man again. Six weeks later, I met Gregg.

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